Chapter 6 Midwinter #3
A loud scream interrupted Virex, and Kraghtol watched how the orc puppet, probably in a dramatic final act, was sinking into the ground while laughing manically.
It was the end of the play, and the two guild officials quickly got up and went in opposite directions.
Not wanting to draw any attention to himself or suggest that he might have listened in on something he definitely wasn’t supposed to hear, Kraghtol lingered longer and clapped his hands along with the children.
Just as he was about to get up himself, he caught sight of a third shadowy figure leaving the darkness of the nearby wall.
Whoever that was had been hiding so well, they had been nearly invisible.
Had they listened in on the guild master’s conversation as well? Should he warn him?
No, this was ridiculous. Whatever exchange it was he had stumbled upon, the worst thing he could do now was to get involved.
The sane thing to do would be to just sit here in silence, wait for the figure to disappear and not draw any attention to himself.
But with every passing heartbeat, it became more difficult to resist. He didn’t want to get involved; he just wanted to know who the third person was.
Just following at a safe distance surely wouldn’t be too risky.
Even though he got up only moments later, he had already almost lost the shadowy figure, and only glimpsed them turning around a corner by chance.
He hurried after them, trying not to draw too much attention.
Luckily, his human body was much more capable of that.
As a half-orc, it was hard not to get noticed by bystanders, and his natural tendency to run into things because he was distracted didn’t make it any better.
Krasen the human, however, was just unremarkable, and, perhaps because of his smaller frame, collided with doors and walls much more rarely.
The one he was pursuing was fast and moved away from the festivities quickly, which was bad.
Tailing someone in the crowd of the solstice celebration was one thing, but entirely different in the empty streets of the city.
For the most part, the streets were brightly lit, so Kraghtol had to keep a generous distance, pressing himself to the walls and corners.
If someone were to see him, his behavior was the very definition of suspiciousness.
There was something weird about the person he was following, and it took him a few city blocks to say what it was.
On the brightly lit streets, everything was mostly normal.
They were wearing a dark cloak that made it difficult to make out any more details about the person, but apart from that, the only thing out of the ordinary was a tiny, hard to pinpoint feeling of unease.
In the darker parts of the city, the ones with less lantern light — and the person seemed to prefer those parts — following them became ridiculously hard.
There, it seemed like their entire body dissolved into darkness, leaving behind only an empty street and a haunting feeling.
In these alleys, Kraghtol figured, it would have been easy for the two of them to pass each other within arm’s length without him noticing.
Luckily, whoever he was following apparently did not notice him and, after taking a few needlessly complicated turns, headed for a well-known part of the city: towards the campus of the Alchemists’ guild.
Fewer people actually lived here, so the streets weren’t lit by lanterns as much.
Where before, the mysterious shadow-blending ability had been creepy, but ultimately useless in single alleyways, now, in the sprawling darkness of the campus, Kraghtol almost immediately lost track.
He had no way of telling where his target had turned, and had effectively lost them.
He closed his eyes and recalled the city layout.
The Alchemists’ Guild was located at the western edge of the Commercial Quarter, bordering the Silver Spires and the Park District.
As far as he knew, it was impossible to get onto the walled-off hill where the rich and noble lived, from here.
It was easily possible to get to the Park District, on the other hand, but coming from the central marketplace, it would be a detour.
Given that the person he was following had taken confusing routes before, that didn’t rule out the Park District as a destination, especially since this dark area was ideal to lose any potential pursuers.
Before turning south, however, Kraghtol hesitated. It was just as likely that the destination had been this very campus, and if he had to wander around aimlessly in a dark area of the city, he’d rather take the one he was somewhat familiar with.
He had little hope of actually achieving something and was surprised when he stumbled upon an island of lantern light just after turning two corners, near the administrative building where he enrolled.
Two people turned toward him, and it took him a moment to recognize at least one of them against the piercing light: Dean Quenning, who was talking with another woman.
The other woman was the same size as the person he had been following, and clad in a dark coat, but, of course, he couldn’t be certain it was the same one.
Only when he noticed the two of them were staring at him, having interrupted their conversation, did he realize how out of place he was. He briefly considered turning around to run, but that would have only made things worse. Instead, he forced a smile.
“Dean Quenning! What a pleasant surprise! Happy solstice!”
She furrowed her brow and took a moment to reply.
“Ah. Our… newest student. What are you doing here?”
She seemed to have forgotten his name already.
“Krasen from Caemdir,” he helped, trying to keep his heart from beating so loud she could hear it.
“I was just on my way to…” He hesitated for a split second.
There wasn’t much in the direction he was going, so he had to take the first thing that came to mind. “… the library.”
“Really? At this time of the day?” Judging by her tone, that answer hadn’t dispelled her doubts at all. He had to come up with something believable, and fast.
“Uhm, yes. It’s open all day, right?” he stalled.
Then, he got an idea. Subtly slurring his next words, he continued.
“You see, Aniriel — that’s a fellow student; you know her, silver hair and silver eyes — and I had a discussion over one or two cups of wine at the festival, about…
geography. She says nobody has ever scaled The Sword, but I am pretty sure I have heard the opposite in a lecture. ”
“And then you decided to look up that trivial fact right now, on solstice night?” Her voice was a strange mixture of disbelief and annoyance that made Kraghtol shiver in the night’s cold.
He shrugged, committing to the slightly drunk image as convincingly as possible. “We can’t very well start the new year with an argument like that, can we?”
Dean Quenning shook her head. “Students. Unbelievable. You are wrong on both accounts, Mr. Krasen. The library is not open at all times, and also not on solstice day. And no, The Sword is a large, insurmountable mountain range in the southern part of the country. I would advise you strongly to pay more attention in class.”
She forced a smile that did not hide her annoyance at all. “For now, though, I believe you should head back to the festivities.”
Kraghtol hesitated for a heartbeat before nodding and taking the excuse. He’d have liked to find out more about the other woman, who had not said a single word in the exchange, but it was almost a miracle this impromptu excuse had worked as it was. He didn’t want to stretch his luck any further.
It was probably a terrible idea to get involved in all of that, too.
Whatever Merress and Virex had been conspiring about, and whatever role the Dean played in all of that, should be none of his business.
The prudent choice would be to forget everything about it and pretend he hadn’t seen or heard anything.
Now he just had to convey this wisdom to the parts of his mind that wanted that mystery to be solved immediately.
When his heartbeat had slowed down again, he made his way back to the marketplace and the main festivities — and promptly ran into the person he wanted to meet least: Valir el Greylune.
The noble clearly had more than a few cups too many and had visible trouble staying upright.
His usual circle of admirers was notably absent, and Kraghtol had the feeling Valir was looking for something, though perhaps only something to hold on to.
When he noticed Kraghtol, however, he immediately approached him, slinging an arm around his shoulder at surprising speed.
“Kraaaasen!” he slurred, the sharp smell of alcohol assaulting Kraghtol’s nose. “I didn’t know you’re here, too!”
Kraghtol tried to break free, but the grip was surprisingly strong, so he played along, if only to avoid a confrontation. “Yes, happy solstice, Valir. Enjoying yourself?”
“Sure am! This is so much fun, don’t you think? So many people, and…”
Apparently, he had lost his train of thought and looked at the comparatively sober man with unfocused eyes.
“You know what, Krasen? I admire you. No, act-actually, I envy you, even.”
That sentiment came unexpectedly, but he didn’t have to ask for elaboration.
“You’re just some… peasant from nowhere. Krasen from nowhere. Right? And yet, you still come here, all on your own and… and… do your thing. I mean, you do what you want. I couldn’t do that. Heh. Isn’t that funny? Krasen from nowhere can do what Valir, son of his father, can’t do.”
He laughed, but there was no joy in it. Despite the unlikely confession and the alcohol, his voice was still melodic and velvet, making Kraghtol wonder if there had been an elf somewhere in his ancestry.
“You know, I —”